


Sunset in the Rain

by couldyou_loveme



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Dementia, Haikyuu!! AU Week, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Exchange, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sick Character, TsukiHina Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldyou_loveme/pseuds/couldyou_loveme
Summary: “Thank you, for living for me.” He never heard of it from him. He never got to hear him tell his real and own feelings, his genuine emotions. Until today, he never heard of Kei telling him, “I love you.”“Tell about me to the cosmos. I'm ready to let you sleep.” At that moment, he needs no peace, no time, nor life; those words of consent from the man, who he loves more than his life, is what all he needs.He beamed, lids are closing together as the stars flicker like candles. Before he could even drift into the abyss of nothingness, he heard something along the figure of blurry and distorted man behind him.“I love you.”
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 11
Kudos: 46





	Sunset in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> “We're the bridge of life and death, it's called love.”
> 
> • I researched so little about ‘Dementia’ and still scared of it. I'm so sorry for those who have this, I wish there'd be a real cure. However in this fanfiction, I overdid it and created it more severe, I guess. I'm sorry if this is exaggerated. But thank you for coming, anyways?

“A fine line lies between known and remembered, the today and yesterday; and between the ‘almost’ and ‘made it’. That's how I word out my interpretation of us.”

[1]Shoyo rested his chin at the back of his hand, while he cherishes the glory of another day. He's eyeing the blue, glistening birds that are roaming around, branch to branch, exchanging conversation that he knew he won't know what's about.

He's in the mood to tackle about different stuff. His mouth won't just let itself rest for a mere second, or in a squint of eyes. He would like to fill his white, bland, room with his stories and unanswerable questions about the world. He hates to admit it, but he is philosophical. As the time goes by behind him inside the white, cubic room of his, he started questioning his life and its existence.

‘But how?’ he asks himself, ‘if I can't remember much thing from the past time?’

A burden full sigh left his mouth, followed by a coo from behind. He jolted and faced his back, the gloominess earlier was gone. His eyes are beaming along with his lips, hands are in the air, while jumping steadily like a spring.

“Oh woah, welcome back!” Still jumping and running at the same time, he greeted the man who had just entered. The man lifted his handful hands, gesturing the redhead to stop for a moment and luckily got his signals. Hinata grinned as wide as his opened arms, despite of not much remembering who is in front of him. Although he has no idea– or rather, enough memories of who he is facing– he remained beaming like the sun which had rose from the pile of cotton-like clouds.

The man who's wearing a blazer and pants gently smiled after seeing the sun inside the room. He asks himself, “what did I do to deserve such glory? It's as if the angels sent me each piece of them to have my weekends bright and brilliant.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, while his hands are busy wiping off the moist on the skin of the fruits. “Beaming as always, aren't we?” His lips turned into a smirk, making the orange haired man beside him show off a confused expression.

“Don't you want to see me smiling? It's my way to cope up with my repetitive life cycle.” He asked, tilting his head to his left, to see the face of the man he's asking about what could later lead on an existential crisis. “At least, in my mind, whenever I curve my lips or open them wide until the breeze of summer fills my mouth, I'm a rare butterfly who's the only one who can smile.”

The man who's preparing the newly bought fruits paused from organizing the said food on the porcelain plate. Those words, the butterfly symbolism, it somehow scares him and made his insides tangle. Butterflies are symbolism of something he's afraid of, a trigger of a fear that he was far from facing. Even though butterflies are appreciated and beautiful, that's what they said, he cannot accept that they exist. Butterflies are painfully existing, and never he would thought about Hinata being one of them.

For he would rather sleep 'numb', than to have Hinata see himself as the omen of death, or symbolism of death.

“Anyways, I was worried. Perhaps, you know these people. The young lady has the same hair color as me.” Hinata's bed creaked, while his body rests jiggly on the futon. “She's obviously way shorter than me!”

A mere chuckle left the man's pinkish lips. “Why are you emphasizing that word. It's not like you got any taller.”

Hinata stopped smiling, his eyes piercing through the figure in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his hands and his lips formed a small pout.

“Now, you're talking like you knew my height when I'm still young. I supposed I got taller than the high school's me. I was 5'1 back then, I am having this feeling that I am now in 5'7.” He uttered, looking over his wavy bangs and his hand patting over his head.

The sight was ethereal for the man. He couldn't even finish the single task that he was about to do for the early morning. He's mesmerized by the view of the sunrays slipping through the slits between Shoyo's limbs. The orange hair reflected the sun's waves, creating an illusion above like he's wearing a halo.

His mouth gaped a few space. He's silently enchanting spells in his mind, through the thin air that would look like pleadings for God.

‘He's an angel I'd risk my life for not to get back in heaven– but he's an angel I wished he wasn't. Selfish as it sounds, I'd rather have him as a normal human, someone who faces stress, sadness and such, than to get him as a holy creature who has time limitation.’

The rays of the sun were distrubed by the rushing scraped clouds. It's the moment for him to blink and to do the usual– sighing.

How much had he done it? Sighing as he thought of Shoyo as an angel? He doesn't know and he has no time to count. He's busy spending his vacant time watering the flower who's withering within each second.

“Yesterday, that young woman visited me. She bought some foods that she said I was used to like. I don't remember liking that, nor tasting it. All I know is it's meatbun.

“She's thoughtful. She wiped off the food on my cheeks, she combed my hair and complimented me, saying that my hair was fluffy like a cotton, or the texture of the clouds. She's like the sister I wish I knew,” Hinata laughed, gazing out of the window. “Am I bad if I am actually supposed to be this–” he pinched the air– “close to her, but I can't seem to remember the details about her?”

The man stood froze beside the wooden table, eyeing the small, fragile fingers of Shoyo pinching the space. He'd lie if he says ‘no, you aren't. It's not your fault you're in your situation’, but he'd also sound like the antagonist when he says ‘yes, but–’. So he remained silent, showing the warm smile he's used to give to the orange-haired man when he's unsure of his own response.

“But. . . I want to remember. I wish my mind would listen to my heart, so I can remember anything and anyone that I used to love.” Shoyo mumbled in the thin air, unable for the man whose all attention was caught by cutting the apples. Shoyo beamed, pushing his hair back; his body tilted to see the sun which had risen higher, and went back to face the wide figure of the 2 meters man.

He wonders, ‘he has been here since two years ago. Wasn't he tired of me?’.

His tounge was ticklish to question everything he thought he doesn't deserved. He wants to question the universe and his existence, everything's existence, but he can't. He'll lose himself and his time in the process of finding every answers he'll get, so instead of doing that, he asks simple things. Tha man ahead of his sight can prove it.

“Do hearts forget, sir?”

These words are the tsunami for the man's calm kingdom. Despite of having so much emotions, he dislikes emotions and the feelings they create.

‘Do hearts forget?’ He asked himself, too. The warm summer breeze soothes his skin, the way a mother would to a newborn infant; a caress that you can call warmth and home, home like Shoyo's existence, presence and voice.

‘If hearts don't forget, then why–’ he chuckled ‘– he didn't. Trust yourself, trust him.’

His shoulders shrugged as a response of disapproval. He would never think that hearts forget, if it does, why would Shoyo talk with him when he cannot familiarize with anything? The only thing that he was sure to forget almost everything in the universe is our mind, our memory; the man thought that it was a shame, that no matter how strong you think you are, you're still a normal human, a mortal, somebody who might break both emotionally and physically.

Shoyo proved that to him. It doesn't matter if you're strong willed or determined to show to everybody in this planet that you are, somehow, invincible. If fate and destiny want to play together, you suffer with their game. However, Shoyo also proved to him that those two doesn't matter, as long as you accept whatever is given to you at the time that you can't do anything against them. It's as if he's saying:

“Life is short, if you had met a dead end which is a wall of brick, grow with the dandelions that may start sprouting on each lines of the wall. And beam, the way they do; then fly, when they're blown. ”

The man wondered and wandered, farther than he's supposed to go. His senses were in a space, a blur, functioning somewhere else. He wants to imagine and create fake memories that he could have with Shoyo, but he can't, he doesn't want to give himself a false hope.

When the apple was clearly peeled off its skin, he sliced them into bite size, he placed them like a flower's petals on the white porcelain plate. He tilts his body, watching his small steps as he approaches Shoyo. But he paused, seeing how the redhead is eating the view outside already.

He has the gut to gamble Shoyo's mind, to ask how is he doing, how is everything going for him, or is he happy or sad. He would like to act like they've been known with each other for more than a century, yet he can't. Shoyo was too luminous for him to face.

In addition, he couldn't intervene with Hinata's thoughts, it might mess up his mind and ends up getting him confused, so he always goes silent. After all, he's not used to talk about everything. Hence, he got a good silver lining from this situation, adding the fact that he got to spend time with the guy he looks up to.

Shoyo's hand moved from his lap to his nape, scratching it as a feather from his bed caressed the silky skin. He spoke slowly, like he's the wind, warm and cozy.

“The other lady greets me with a bouquet of yellow flowers. Those flowers are vibrant.” He pointed the flowers on the vase over the table. “She had mentioned that I was like those flowers. Always looking up for the sun and when the sun disappears, they look at each other. Key word, ‘was’.”

His voice echoed throughout the room, wrinkling the blanket beside him. He sighed and went to look for his fingers, which joints are prominent and the sight of it dominates his sight. He's getting thinner, weaker and paler, those are what he could only be reminded of everyday.

“Shoyo?” His head bolted up to see the same guy, wearing a worried expression. Afraid of worries that might scatter in the room any time. Knowing what worry might do for the two of them, he grinned widely and giggled. This is his own mechanism to help his visitors overcome their worries for him, to do his best to be the person they knew he was and he doesn't know if he was.

It's hard for Hinata, especially when he knew that the time will come when he would no longer remember how to smile, to beam, to laugh, or to talk– unfortunately, to breathe and to live; to exist.

Dementia is one of the fear and great enemies in the world, aside from corruption, unfairness and maltreatment, and crimes; aside from cancers and also, overpopulation. Dementia still has no permanent cure today, it could be treated time to time, but only with counted medications.

“Right, so do you remember how the lady with the flowers looked like?” The guy asked, waiting for a response from the beaming Hinata. Instead of getting a jiggly laugh, or wheeze, he was caught off guard by the creepy silence.

“Lady? Which lady?”

This sent shiver to the spine of the man he's talking to. He surely would never get used to it. There are few moments that the same case occured and all he could do was to assure himself that it's part of his disease, or it was the aftermath of the disease, or it was the disease itself. Yet no matter how many times it happens, it still could throw his courage out of his body. Like it's being used as a multiplier for his fears and weaknesses.

As if life and future were not fearful enough, the universe created more in existence of different diseases.

Once he recovered from the shock, he snorted a laugh. “Nothing. I remembered a scene from the book I'm reading. I'm daydreaming,” he said, trying to convince Shoyo, trying to convince himself.

“Oh, really?” Shoyo was moved, he had been not reading any book nor articles these days. It's not like the outside happenings still mattered for him. He believed that the exterior negativity won't help him live a life he would like to see in his dreams. The outside world is scary, although thrillingly beautiful, the amount of pain you might get is numerous; they're more than the time that Shoyo (himself) might live in this world.

“Books are awesome. Although I never committed myself to read one, I know they are mysterious and enchanting.” Hinata giggled and stretched his arms forward. “I'm actually jealous of those who could read books straight for a day. How could they even do that?”

“As what you have said, it's dedication. If a person's dedicated to do something, it attracts what he's manifesting for. What you think of is what you attract,” the man answered, gently smiling.

“That is why I'm envious of them!” He threw a fist swinging upwards. “They could reach five chapters without forgetting what happened to the other four. I supposed, I will read through chapter 34 and ask myself why am I reading that chapter already.”

His words were followed by his usual, energizing and uplifting laugh, which was also chased by the defining silence. He heaved a sigh, looking down like the sun's already setting behind his room.

“By the way, you said that what we think of is what we attract, right?” Hinata looked beside him to meet the wondering brown orbs.

He received a hum as a response. A hum of hesitation and worries; pain and anger. It goes along the blank expression of the guy, which he wears whenever he felt like the happiness he gets from meeting Shoyo will be followed by rope clinging around his chest. A rope full of thorns.

“Then what would happen if you had forgotten what you were thinking? What are you attracting then, void?”

“Hinata–”

“It made me shiver.” He snorted a laugh and leaned on the pile of pillow behind him.

“To think of something is to attract it. I want to attract time, to attract peace, to attract calmness and contentment. Yet here I am, thinking of nothing, but– it's actually nothing. I'm thinking of darkness, absence of thoughts.

“I wish. . . I can think of time giving me more of itself.”

[2]“Just this morning, two grown up men showed up. One brought some foods with them. You know what? They put it on a bento box!” Hinata munched the dumplings, chewing every pieces given to him. “They are easy to talk with too. I thought that the taller one would be intimidating.”

“To be frank, the one who's taller– much taller than the other one– is like a gentle polar bear. He's shivering at mere moments and spaced out while we're talking. I thought that he's sick, or what, until the shorter guy told me he's anxious.”

The man beside him, who's taking care of each bite of dumplings, listened carefully. He knows who they are; with the descriptions handed to him, he already gathered enough idea who Shoyo is talking about. He watches still to see the excitement which arises from Shoyo's once were dim eyes.

“Perhaps they know you, or they missed being with you,” he replied, handling one more piece of dumpling to the grinning man.

“I wish they do. If not, I'd end up wondering how they know me, or how did they find me. Only I could remember being here was you.” Shoyo's mouth was filled with meat of the dumpling, yet he still had managed to hum a tune of a song. A song that sent shivers and bolt of energy to the man's body. An unforgettable song for his high school memories.

He light-headedly handed the dumplings to Shoyo, eyes are fixed on his bright, shimmering face which the setting sun of five in the afternoon managed to touch and soothe.

This scene would always remain as peculiar event for him that occurs every single time he visits the descendant of the sun, especially when they're seen as the magnets with negative charges in high school. How many years have passed by since high school? Winning nationals? He lost track, but it was surely passed ten years.

He, the man who's beside Shoyo most of the time, decided and promised himself not to reminisce those moments of undesirable occurrences. The moment when a dream turned into a nightmare, and followed by another nightmare. But he's a human, too. Curiosity drives him, also indecisiveness.

He heaved a sigh as if he just went back home from a marathon in the past. He's afraid to turn his present to the source of everything they have today. Neither of the 2012-201* volleyball players they held practice and real matches with dared to talk about Shoyo's condition when they were nearby him. They're afraid to know the source of darkness, or the beginning of the thread; the rising action which blissfully turned into the denouement.

A once was eye of the needle that slowly turned into the lose hole of a pipe, where nothingness lies in the end. Their body are trembling as their existence quiver in fear, while they try to reminisce the time that they'd seen Hinata on the ground, limping and getting unconscious, with splashes of blood running down from the back of his head.

“Are you listening?” Shoyo wondered, carefully peaking on his spacing blank face, with eyes as dim as the dawn. “I'm worried, you seemed lost. Tell me if I'm bothering you, or speaking gibberish thoughts, I'll stop.”

“No, it's okay. I happened to remember something.” He beamed softly, before looking down to his own hands holding the chopsticks and the last piece of dumpling left on the plate.

“Ah, really?.” Shoyo chuckled. “Is your main purpose was to make me jealous?” The sunshine followed it with a laugh which bounced on the four corners of their ‘paradise’.

He stuttered, saying, “jealous? I'm not! I was just reminiscing some times from yesterday.”

“That's what I'm jealous of, exactly.”

“You could remember a lot of things, I can't even remember the ‘me’ that I used to be. Sometimes it makes me feel hopeless; but you see, I can't give up.” Shoyo felt his chest skipped a heartbeat. His head is getting occupied by tangled thoughts, overlapping and knotting with each other.

He would like to laugh, a genuine one that would surely reach the sun, but he merely could form a single tune of laughter. “ I'm still working and kicking my life to move forward and heal, in able to keep up with him,” he uttered.

“I've been hearing about this guy from you, I could write an essay about him if you want to.” The man chuckled, leaving Shoyo with a smile plastered on his lips. He then stretched his body and leaned at the headboard of his bed.

“I am looking forward for that essay then. But before you do that, I have to complete my story about him. Tell him that he's lucky enough to be remembered by a man who can't even write his name in Kanji,” they laughed together, “and tell him that he's the one who keeps me alive, he's the oxygen– metaphorically. I might need oxygen one day, but don't call him, nor seek for him.”

Shoyo was beaming, but the gloominess hovering over his eyes were invincible. “I don't want my moon to see his past enemy gasping for air and doing his best to hold onto life.”

The man wants to crouch down and beg Shoyo to stop saying those kinds of words. Words that are too beautiful and yet painful to utter, but came from someone who still wants to live, heard by a fellow human who wants to die with the one who spoke.

He thought that those are already enough to put a crippling ache in his chest, but he never processed the aftermath. Pretending that everything's fine and great, and would continue that way, even though he's tiptoeing on a fine line between holding on and letting go, too.

His lips curved, deceiving both parties.

“Then, it is settled. I won't utter anything to him about your fantasies.” His laugh mocked Hinata, causing him to pout. “Now, don't pout. You look like a duckling. Ducklings are yellow, not orange.”

“You're so mean. You have always been mean to me.”

“Because you're easy to piss. You're like a child who always got his candy stolen by his classmates,” he mocked. “However, worry not, if ever someone mocked you because of anything you have today, I'll wipe their existence off this planet.”

Shoyo straightened his back, picking the left piece of dumpling from the tip of the man's chopsticks, and carefully shoved it into his mouth using his slender fingers. Despite of his face burning scarlet like a pomegranate, the man munched it while looking on the elder's hands that are too thin he thought they're just lines.

“I hope you're not just words, eh?” Shoyo beamed, before leaning on his pillows and eyes are slowly closing, drifting away to sleep.

“Hey, you said that you'll wipe the existence of anybody else who would dare to mock me?” Out of the blue, it's chilling and the warmth he used to have had faded. The ball of energy wondered, trying his best to remember the details told by the man beside him. Hinata got no reply, rather a gentle touch on his forehand.

“I will, I promise.” This answer made Hinata chuckle.

“Would you wipe the existence of life off this planet for me?” His eyes shot slightly opened. They're as if eaten by nothingness, by the absence of life or the dream of living; they're dead and creepily piercing towards the man's wrinkling face.

“It's mocking me. It gave me a piece of itself to live, but gave me an illnesses to die for. I'm being mocked by everything around me. There are few moments– no, rather everyday– when I see people around me talking and smiling with each other, reminiscing their past, I felt mocked by life itself. I want to disappear, to sleep it off, to yell at the sky and curse the world. But I can't. I don't even know what cusses are.” He giggled, leaving the man with a heavy silence and the atmosphere as burdensome as the gravity.

“But you're here. I have a human diary. And I'm hoping that when the day comes I started to forget myself, you'll be able to tell me about me too. That's why I'm doing all these, for you to remember me for me. Wait, that sounded selfish,” Shoyo uttered, started getting unconscious, eyes are drifting off to sleep. “I'm doing this so you could write it in your essay for him, so he won't feel lonely when I'm already asleep.”

He watched him fell into the abyss of peace. The alley between life and death: sleep.

He didn't reply, instead he bow his head on the cotton blanket, leaning on the softness of empty space where the absence of Shoyo's body remains; shutting his eyes and cussing the world the way Shoyo would like to do so by himself. Why?

‘The world's unfair, but at the same time, it's not. The guy that Hinata loves also loves him. But how can they tell, if they're in a far distance? How can they tell each other, if Hinata's mind is in a great distance?”

[3]“Oh!” Hinata jolted up from his bed. “That's cool, what was that in your hand?”

The man's lips curved in the sight of vibrant excitement crawling into the orange-haired guy. He saw how Hinata's eyes flickered with light when he saw the gadget in his hands.

“This is an iPad. I brought it here so I can start writing the essay about him, those words you would like to tell him. I'm taking down notes from you too, in case you have follow up words for him.” Hinata's mouth gaped open, eyeing the man as if he's a northern star during the winter season, who's also intelligent and a prodigy of literature.

“The sight of you wearing a vanilla beige coat and deep turquoise turtle neck, you look like somebody who's not suitable for a tasteless place like my home.” Shoyo's voice is like he's talking with the four corners of his room, silent, as if he's facing them without space in between. “I'd really take risk to be in the same job as you if I'm able to do so!”

“I don't really like impulsive and indecisive people who's ready to take a leap on everything and every unknown that they face. But you're an exception.” His eyes searched for the figure of the boy whose core is brighter than his physical appearance; wave of hope filling his existence.

“I'd take a risk, too. I am ready to risk my cool just to see you everyday, filling my gloomy workspace with your uplifting presence, Hinata.” Hope arises on Shoyo's eyes. His knees, which are lying softly on the warm foam of his bed, sprung in the air and landed with a creak. However, he stopped as his hands stayed up, confusion hugs him and it's visible on his eyes being hooded by his lids.

“Why am I jumping?” He sat down still confused. The man noticed the sudden change, thinking of words to use so he can calm the panic that the guy in front of him might feel.

“You were celebrating.”

He asked himself, “are those enough? I want him to remember, but are those enough? Are my words as simple as those were enough to calm him?”

“Eh, for what?” Instead of responding, he shove up the gadget.

“Bringing a shimmery and eye catching gadget, while wearing that decent and elegant outfit. How dare you make me jealous this way!” Hinata joked, pointing his fingers to the calm and collected themed guy. “Awe, why did you bring it here. What if it fell on the ground, what would we do?”

Worries and anxiety. The two that only Hinata is known of and he would always remember.

“I'll be working on some things. I need to write this ‘love letter’ for the guy you were head-over-heels for. The guy you usually drooled for whenever we talk about him.” A sly grin was present on the guy's lips, with his eyebrows rising like the redness on Shoyo's face. 

“Oh,” Shoyo stuttered, “I told you about him?”

“You did. It felt like I'm watching you two's fated love story ahead of my eyes whenever you tell me about him, and how grateful you are to be close to him,” the man responsed. He sat down on the stool provided for the table beside Shoyo's bed.

“You should have told me about it, earlier!” Shoyo sprung up like a spring, giggling as his face wrinkles and gets redder. “I shall not waste no time. My time is precious and I am whole heatedly giving all of my remaining for him– at least, telling about him.”

It's painful. It was like when you accidentally held a burnt metal, or when you held the boiling pot of water. That's what the man who's gripping on the cover of the tablet felt. He's aching inside his warm coat, chilling and freezing despite of the warmth inside the room.

Shoyo was beaming all the time, he's happy and vibrant, the atmosphere in the room was light and soothing, gentle and at the same time, joyfully rough. The man has his smile on his thin pinkish lips as he listens to the orange haired man's stories and identification about the guy he's talking about; from hair, to eyes, lips and skin, to his mannerism and awkwardness around people, how reserved he was.

He was somehow shocked that a person who had been living with dementia for ten years to remember all of it. Although, there's a proof of the disease's toll on Shoyo's body, it's him not being able to remember Kei's face and appearance as a whole.

They're all imprinted on the man's mind while it was being told. He's not just jotting those details down to his tablet, rather, he engraved them like tattoos in his soul. They are soon to be ‘only’ words, ‘told’ by somebody he used to know. Henceforth, the guy was also doing his best to dig a special place in his mind, for all these painfully spoken words to have a peaceful rest.

Hinata expressed his words with his body; he'd raised his hands up as if creating a rainbow from his palms, or laughing like the sun with the clear sky at two in the afternoon. There are mere seconds when he stopped and asked what he's doing, but then the man would remind him again that they're writing an essay— just like earlier, when Shoyo forgot what the tablet was for.

As the time passed by, he got used to it, just like wearing the same expression that shows he's not worrying for the future. He's used to being asked by the same question for thousand of times a day and it didn't bother him much the way it used to when he was still new in that situation. He thought that it's irritating and annoying, however it is Hinata he's talking with, it's less boring. The older man has a lot of stories to tell, experiences in the hospital to share and philosophy about life he has today.

Shoyo, somehow, managed to become the man that the guy he's with wished him to be when they're still young. But who are they joking? The man wished he could still bring back the time ahead of them and show Hinata who he used to be. And Hinata, on the other hand, wished he can still be who they know he used to live as.

To live free, peaceful, beaming all day without having to worry about his thoughts when midnight and dawn covers his plain white room. He wished to be the Hinata Shoyo that he was in his high school years.

The man was busy tapping on the digital keys shown on the screen, until the surrounding went silent. Hinata stopped talking, the afternoon's humid wind was blown through the window, brushing their cheeks and sending faint shivers to the man's nape and spine.

“Hinata?”

“Can you,” Hinata inhaled and exhaled deeply, “stop jotting these down? The details, I know I've asked you to write about it, but do you think we could stop now?”

He didn't move, he paused his hands mid air and waited for more words. He already wrote down a thousand words from Hinata, now he asked him to stop. He's waiting, but Hinata uttered nothing. The silence feels gloomy, the once was lit up room had suddenly gone dim.

“Don't you want your emotions. . . written down?” he asked.

“I would like to, but they won't sound genuine once he find them out. They're all words, they'd only happen told by somebody who used to love and adore him. I don't like it,” Hinata sighed.

“If ever I decide to confess, I'd rather say it face-to-face. This is more painful, it's as if I'm bidding my goodbye already along my last testament.”

The thought of Hinata writing his last will heated the guy's body. He pushed the power button and put the tablet aside, looking over Hinata who watches the birds outside, flying back to west, to their home.

They remained like that, watching each flap of the birds's wings. Wishing that those wings would create a butterfly effect in the past and put Shoyo in a better situation.

“Some days, I want to be a bird.” Shoyo's voice was faint and breathy.

“Birds could fly free, roam around with their wings. But no matter how much I wish to be one, I always wake up in this body, not even remembering that I had wished to be a bird. I was left with nothing more but to wish to have a peaceful life at least.

“Or to express my gratitude towards him for showing me that after all these trials I've encountered, he gave me reasons to remain. He gave me reasons to stay still where I am and even if it's slow to walk up front and catch up with him.” He shut his eyes closed, feeling the wind painting his skin like a blank canvas, the rays of the sun reflecting on his pale tone.

“Suddenly, I don't want to be a bird. I am slowly and painfully accepting this fate of mine. I only want to meet him and tell him how much I fell for him, I've love him and continued kicking the generator of my life for it to keep working. He became my inspiration and motivation, my life itself.” Hinata's eyes went open, looking beside him and beaming to the guy he used to talk with about these angst stuff, which had been hidden behind him, like his shadow.

“I realized that I'm actually not thinking about nothing at all. I'm thinking about him all the time. I can't remember my friends, my family, most of the times, but he remained in my head even after midnight. Only for me to realize that I'm not manifesting the death or void.” The sun is setting and splashes of red and purple scattered on the clouds, like bruises on one's skin.

“I'm not attracting void, but him. I realized that what you've said is like us having this magnetic iron core inside us, just like planets. And I thought that that suits us perfectly.”

Shoyo gripped on his hospital pajamas and felt that his cheeks are burning, not with embarrassment or blushing, but rather, there are magma-like tears dribbling down to his cheeks and chin.

“And I also came up that this Shoyo is no longer the sun, and was never the sun. I was a planet who faces the sun all the time. Now the sun, my passion, had faded and died. I'm lost. But at least, I still have my moon.”

The man was glued on his seat, taking notes of each words coming out of those chapped lips, but none of them getting engraved on his head like the ones said earlier had. They're pure emotions spoken out, thoughts raging at the moment slipping through his mouth; and Hinata's tongue being a wand casting spell on the thin air, sending his letter of love and gratitude to the person he dedicated his remaining life time by means of speaking his feelings.

The man felt his chest ached, he wants to excuse himself and leave, to turn his back and walk away from the heartbreaking outcome of fate's maltreatment and unfairness. But he knew he can't. It's Hinata Shoyo, the mesmerizing piece of sun who happened to be hated by the universe.

“I wish to see him one more time, but I don't know where he is. Nonetheless, I'm hoping him a good health and good life. He deserved more, more than contentment and more than enough. After he had an issue with his brother when he was a kid– if I'm right– I started wish him to have good people come in his life.” He muffled his sobs and forced his lips to smile under the thunderstorm of his soul.

“He deserved someone who won't forget his hard work, his dedication and his name. Kei-kun deserved somebody who would be able to embrace him as long as they're both breathing.

“He deserved anybody and anything more than me.”

[4]After that conversation they had, they never dared to talk about jotting down the ideas Hinata has, or his feelings of love towards the guy he adores. The man thought that it would only cause Hinata a deeper type of sadness and longing, may be called sorrow. He can't lose the last piece of light that Shoyo has, he would rather keep those words in his mind than to impulsively write them down against Hinata's will.

The months passed by in a bliss. The guy became busy and workaholic, committing himself to his work and his life. He knew that Hinata had no one to talk with when he's gone. Or his sister, Natsu, might have visited him for some times already when he's gone.

He and Hinata family are kept in touch, since they are trusting him for the safety of their child. Shoyo's father would dare to step his foot in his son's private unit, but he won't be able to keep up with the amount of painful questions he'd get from his own child;

‘Mister, who are you?’, ‘Ah right, my father– my father?’, ‘I can't remember much about my family, so I'm not talking so much about our relationship. Can you talk about them, sir?’, ‘I wish I know them individually, but I don't. As much as it is painful for them has the same impact for me’, ‘I don't remember, I might remember tomorrow– but who am I going to remember?’.

These type of questions are what they feared the most, those which ask who they are, what kind of relationship they have with him and what are their names. Hinata's past teammates are no exceptions. They once visited Hinata together and found him gazing out of the window while drinking a cup of milk.

They thought it's fine, it's all right to greet him altogether, but they caused him a sudden panic. The unforgettable sight of Shoyo trembling because of their loud voices. None of them would forget that expression which Hinata shown them. The wide eyes filled with purple shade, trembling lips and limbs, whisper-like voice asking them who they are and why are they frightening him.

They can't forget of the nightmare they had and they caused, the nightmare which was the outcome of their win, the reason of their lost.

The main cause of the nightmare that Hinata has today had happened when he's in his third year. The former members of Karasuno are watching the game, it's getting intense and rallies are happening time to time. The fight against Itachiyama was hard enough for both teams to lose stamina slowly, and have their legs wiggle and knees wobble.

Karasuno was one point ahead, they need one more to finally close the game. When Kishiro spiked, it was saved by Hinata and hits by the raging Tadashi. They won the game, cheers are everywhere from Karasuno's cheering team; even the former Karasuno members and cheering squad are shouting their lungs out. But these cheers were behaved, as soon as the paramedics came in.

It was too late for them to take an action. They won the match, but they'd lost in snap when Hinata was taken out with bleeding head, unconscious and pale. Even Itachiyama went to look for Hinata and asked for his condition, especially their new setter who once promised that would like to play as Shoyo's setter one day. They're all worried, a game would be less active without the most cheerful person, without the time bomb.

They're expecting his shout, his cheers, his over driven activity, but they got the silence that was too frightful to hear. The silence that sounds like the rustles and whistles of towering trees on a misty forest, where unknown lies most of the time. The time bomb they expected detonated in different way, or in a way that they less expected it to be; in a way that he had exploded literally.

The next day, Hinata was nowhere, they'll be going to nationals, but Hinata's still nowhere. Weeks and months had passed that's when they were updated about him, saying that he won't be playing with the team anymore. He would drop out of school and live his life in peace.

Hinata had a brain injury, his skull had a fissure at the back. It takes a risk taking decision if it should be taken care of or not. Money for life, decision and risk taking for someone to survive: these are what his family were thinking during those time. Although he was getting healed, dementia occurs.

Years had passed and Hinata was admitted into a private hospital, for him to be taken care of by authorities since his family members are busy and won't be able to accompany him. This situation made it worse, he cannot remember them at all most of the times they visited. They'd ask him why are they tearing up, or why are they visiting.

Only there's one exception for these questions and that's the guy who was used to visit him day by day. He doesn't know his name and he knew he wouldn't ask. He doesn't want to, he's intimidated by the guy's presence and he would let it flow like that.

They talked about life, flowers and plants, people and personalities, however he would often forget these details as time passes by behind them. They're in peace and calmness embraces them when they're together.

This man does not had any idea why he's doing it, or what made him do it; it's all about his own needs. He's been lonely since high school ended, since he entered college and started working for himself. He's homesick and none of his family members could come to the city to visit him, since their schedules are also hectic, adding the fact that it needs a long hour of commuting in able to meet.

With Hinata, he feels like he's home. The warmth that Hinata has feels like he's going back to his teenage years, to the moment that life is all about euphoria, adrenaline rush, immature cat fights and shouts. With Hinata, he's calm, like Hinata is his cloud 9, his paradise, a sanctuary deep inside the hideous forest called reality. Hinata is his sleeping pills for the worries inside of him.

The man stopped tapping on the keys of his computer, receiving a call from the hospital. He glared on the caller's ID for a moment, letting his consciousness feel his heart beating fast. He gripped on his phone and flipped it open to answer the call.

[Hello, sir?] It was Hinata's personal nurse.

“Yeah, this is me. What is the business we're talking about, today?”

[Mister Hinata Shoyo asked for you. He asked if you could go tomorrow to celebrate something. He has been eager since earlier to call for you, we told him we can't bother you during working hours but he won't stop. Please, bear with this call, sir.]

“Yeah, it's fine. I'm currently working right now, please send me a message later on about his current condition. I would like to know about his health too. It's been a month since we'd met.” He stared on the screen of the computer, his eyes catching a glimpse of a word which made his heart skip a beat, not knowing the reasons why.

[Okay, sir. Right away. Sorry for bothering you, I'll end the call now.] The man heard the ticking sound of end call, sighing and leaning on his chair, staring at the white ceiling of their office.

His eyes darted on the stain of black paint on the white ceiling. He remembered when his heart skipped a beat, the reason why and the gut feeling he felt. He tried to brush it off, but he can't. He stretched his arms and went back to look up for the word. The one word in Kanji which made him feel sick and relieved at the same time, without knowing the reason why.

‘平和’ (peace)

[5]The sky was gloomy like the weather forecast had told earlier for them to be ready about it. He has his coat and umbrella in his hands, his leather backpack on his back. His mind was busy with the thought of celebration that Hinata asked him to go with, he doesn't know what he was holding for today. Hinata likes to celebrate, he likes to surprise people.

What he likes to be surprised with is Hinata healing permanently, but it would rather be a miracle if it happens.

A single heavy breath left his pinkish lips, skin's getting paler due to the cold breeze blown by the thunderstorm that might occur until the next day. He stood still as he took a pause on his track, facing the white building with few ambulances going in and out, the raindrops hitting the windows of the structure and the red cross symbol at the top with the name of the building.

A private hospital, keeping the patients's life private, broadcasting the patients's healing progro and keeping the deaths in secrecy. They're cruel by doing that, but the man in front of the building knew he has no power to argue about it, he has no reputation to call it out. After all, death could give people an undefinable kind of aching on the body, more than the relief that cure of one person could give.

He stepped his feet on the marbled floor of the building. The rectangular lights above him welcomed his blurry sight, the air-conditioned indoor became steamy due to the rush of doctors and people in wheelchairs and stretchers sent on the emergency room. He stepped aside to make way for those in hurry, watching each movement made by the doctors and nurses, smelling the stinky odor of death and hope, and the sound of gasping mouth clinging onto life.

These made him feel sick, almost puking out the food he ate from the small coffee shop downtown. He proceeded walking through the elevator before he could even break down on his knee in front of the public, with crunching nose and narrow eyes.

When the two metal doors met, giving him a clicking sound, he felt his heart on his throat, thumping like the hands of drummers on a summer festival. The light on the floor's button are near on the storey number where Shoyo is.

When it reached the floor, he could hear the whispers of nurses going out of different rooms, exchanging gossips and trading information. It is unusual for him to experience this; usually, Japanese people at work are seen as individuals dedicated on their works, would work without gossiping.

He stopped and eyed the room of Hinata. There are decorations on the frame of his room's door. Fake sunflowers are on each corner of its upper part, while leaves are falling down on its sides. He couldn't help himself but feel hopeful; after seeing those vibrant colored plastic flowers which shimmers like Hinata's existence, it made him look forward for tomorrow and the next days to see Hinata again.

“Sir!” The same nurse who called him over the line yelled, with his hands in the air. “Mister Shoyo was waiting for you since 6 this morning. We tried to tell him that you'll definitely come, however he's now tearing up after thinking you won't.”

The tone of the nurse's voice is worried, yet something in his eyes tell a different story– ‘was it lie, or happiness?’.

The man's eyebrows have risen. “Why? What's the occasion in the first place?”

“Oh, right. Sir, I think you should be the one to find it out for yourself. He needs someone he knew to soothe him at the moment. He's been thinking that you never understand him and such. We're rooting for you and you're like our only hope right now,” the nurse panted.

“Let me. Please, don't interfere when we're talking. He would probably end up forgetting about the point of our conversation if someone interrupts.” The nurse nodded and gave way for him to walk through the hallway and to Hinata's door. Other nurses are informed about the man's request, causing them to go back to their real business.

Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing a lit up room and balloons in the air. There's a cake on the table that was supposed to be for the healthy foods, a tupperware full of Onigiri*, matcha tea and Sakura themed KitKat chocolates.

“Hinata, what are these things and what do we have here?” He asked, stepping in on the room which felt like he have just fell on a bright sink hole.

Hinata glanced over his shoulders with a wide smile, he has a party hat in his hands– two party hats in orange color. He stood up and jumped to reach the man's head, trying his best to out the party hat over his messy hair.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” the man chuckled, “I'll wear it, don't jump too much. But mind to explain why are we having this party?”

Hinata gave him the party hat and tapped the empty space beside him when he sat on his comfy bed.

“Hinata?” He called.

Hinata hummed. “I remembered a date three weeks ago. Now, I can't seem to forget it. It keeps on coming in my mind and it feels like Deja Vu, for it kept on repeating.”

The man nodded as a response. They went silent for a moment, until a thunder growled above them, after a sharp lightning. The man held the hem of his long sleeve, tight enough to release the fear he had over the produced sound of the natural disaster. This was noticed by Hinata, giggling about it and proceeds on caging the man's hand inside his.

“You're tall and huge, but you're afraid of lightning and thunder?” Hinata laughs as if mocking him. “That's cute. I wish I know my fears, those small fears.”

“Right, right, Hinata come back.” The man heard Hinata whispered to himself. “The date I'm talking about. I remember it clearly just now. In my memory, there's a calendar with red heart-shaped ink. The date's still unknown for me, but seeing the heart shape and the emoticons of celebration, I knew it is somebody's birthday!”

“Who could it be, then? What date is it today?” He was about to glance on his phone when Hinata shouts.

He shouted, “September 27! And guess what? I think it is Kei's birthday. I wish he's happy and contented. I wish him a good life ahead!” His mouth is grinning as wide as his arms opened.

The man went silent, staring on Hinata's face with the corners of his lips meeting the heaven, calling the angels.

“His birthday?”

”Yeah. I think I still have a keen memory with dates, eh?” The orange haired man joked. “But it's time for us to– hey, why are you crying?”

He damped his fingertips on his cheeks, feeling the soaking liquid roaming down to his neck. He's happy and sorrowful at the same time, but he never dared to make Hinata feel the same.

“I'm happy for him. He, he got someone who embraces small details about him.” His lips turned into a downturn crescent moon, with Hinata's eyes widening due to worries. “Overjoyed that there are still people who can remember the smallest and simplest things about someone.”

Hinata beamed on him and torn the party hat, before waving it in the air. They laughed and talked non-stop, they ate a lot, sang a ton, Hinata's room was loud that they're afraid they're bugging other patients already; nonetheless, they felt happy and bright, they feel like there's no tomorrow waiting for their happiness.

They happened to talk about the same guy whom Hinata's speaking and living for as always.

“I like him so much that I'm afraid of my life. I'm living this life for the same guy, although sooner I know the disease might take a toll in my body, in a greater way. I'm afraid,” he laughed, “this disease is no joke. I became aware of it once, now it won't leave my mind. But for him, I'm risking it.”

“He's my rival in high school. He's salty, egotistic and reserved, despite of these displeasing characteristics he has, he's smart and I look up to him for that. I like his blond hair– which is the only thing I could remember about him for now.”

“Why do you love him then if he has a lot of negative traits?”

“Love knows nothing when it's about negative or positive stuff. Love is undefinable, it's an urge of thrill, excitement, fear and longing, a mixture of all emotions. I fell for him not as a rival, but as a man. I don't know the reason, but I did, solid and straight to the ground.”

“Somehow, do you . . . remember his name?”

“Maybe?” He groaned, holding his temples, “I'm trying my best to remember his name. I think I–

“I remember it!”

“His name is Tsukishima Kei.”

They want to stay that way, without worries, without fears for the next tick of the clock, where they're just worried what if a sudden electricity shortage occurs.

It's euphoria. A day full of hope, and smiles and laughs, giggles and talks. A bright day under the thunderstorm for the two of them.

The man watched each movement of Hinata. Giving the older guy that day to be happy and to live it without thinking about the next month, the next events; until he realized that he's smiling just because he's with him, he stopped and tapped Hinata's shoulder.

Hinata looked up, with the smile on his lips. But as soon as he did that, the guy leaned forward pressing their lips together; the pinkish lips of the man slowly tainting Hinata's.

The surrounding was muted, only the sound of raindrops firing on the glass of the windows could be heard. Parting their bodies away from each other feels like losing a piece of each of them. Yet they had no choice, but to breathe, and when they parted away, Hinata ruffled his own hair. He giggled, closing his eyes, leaning back with his arms supporting his weight.

“I wish I could have done that before.” Shoyo snorted a laugh.

“Kissing?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “kissing Kei without any sign that I'll be doing it. I wasted an opportunity.”

Peaceful and calm. That's what it feels like being with Hinata Shoyo. However, what Shoyo feels whenever he's alone with himself is all worries and anxiety, and the thought of what would happen if time ticks faster. He could wish for no more time, as he is living the reality, the truth. All he wants right now is for a day like the one they're fulfilling today to happen as often as it can.

Turned out, peace was also two faced. It's either peace of mind, or peace of body.

[6] After the party, Hinata had been spending his time all alone. Laughing through his memories together with the man. How long has it been? He doesn't know; months? Probably, years, or they just felt like years had passed by. He couldn't move and his limbs are stuck in nowhere. It feels like he's blank, paralyzed. He cannot speak, nor laugh. He only wants to sleep it off, but he's afraid.

He's afraid that once he sleeps, he won't be able to wake up anymore.

He made a promise to him and to Kei. He promised that he won't give up his life. He promised that he won't kneel down and surrender to his disease, but how can he do that? As of the moment, while dusk is soon to call, it's his body that's making decisions for them. Even if he'd like to keep himself awake, his body wants to shut down and drift into the space.

After all these times, his enemy wasn't any of his past volleyball opponents, or anybody out there, it is his self, his body that was too weak for someone like him who wants to live his life into its fullest. He has been on a battle against it for years, that he lost count of it. Too long and too much wasted time inside a tasteless vacuum room of his.

How is he actually doing after the party? He has been going slow, as slow as the falling leaves of autumn. Sometimes, he can't tell who is who and most of the days, he can't laugh or smile. He's just there on a stool, or in a wheelchair, staring blankly into the absence of warmth and matters.

He felt like he's a shell with nothing inside, a shell which crab inside had ran away and found another home which is bigger; a crab named life and was now going home to the whole universe. An egg is now higher in level than him; at least, the egg has something inside and he could only take it literally and would say he has organs.

The winter that's soon to approach could be felt through the freezing and soothing breeze. The way he lose grip of the last snow he witnessed outside, when he's still young and careless, he drifts and melts slowly due to his warm touches. He's too warm, that his grip on himself is painful; like the sand that was held too tight, he is unconsciously losing himself.

He's losing the sunlight, the stars, the cosmos, the life he wished to live more. Influenced by the sight of his frozen limbs, he wants to rest, too.

‘Was it a call?’

He could only giggle in his mind. There are so much thoughts inside, flooding and raging inside him, wiping off his hopes. Like a tsunami that took over his paradise, the sanctuary where he lived for years: his mind.

He's sitting beside the window of his room. The window pane was covered with fragments of dried leaves, which the wind blew that afternoon. He's being pushed by the urge to get some of it and brush them on his pale skin, to at least have some color tainted on his blank appearance. Yet there he is, spacing out and watching the dancing trees that are swaying with the hymns of the wind. He watches these non-living things move, while he, a human, can't even move a joint.

He's stuck in time, or to make it more realistic, he's nowhere in time. He's purely in space. He wants to cry, to burst and finally have the courage to throw his fist on the world. But it was like the world's the one to throw him out off it.

He has not realized one thing yet.

‘That he had forgotten about his moon for once.’

[6.2] “You're my freedom, I'd stick with you until I lose myself.” His lips quivered, before waving his hands on Tsukishima's face. And each step he takes felt like he's leaving small pieces of himself behind.

Now, he thinks he's a hypocrite, for at the moment, sticking with that promise he made felt more like a burden than love. That promise of living for Kei doesn't feel like love at all, it's more like being afraid of losing his reasons to continue living. And he knew, he's unfair. But weren't everything in this universe unfair?

His lids are about to meet, indication that he wants to sleep. The whistling wind of incoming evening kissed his cheeks and smudged the crystal tears that fell off of his trembling eyes. However, he knew– he felt like he needs to ask ‘his’ consent before he do so.

His body is limping to ask, his lips are shut. He only needs and wants one thing this time, it's not peace, or time, or life, it's his– Tsukishima Kei's words to confirm his freedom, to let him combust and become the absence of life, a dwarf star, free.

He wondered when and how, until he heard footsteps going from the door, a whisper which was followed by a chuckle. He can't remember anything, but these noises made his bowling eyes to tear up more. Despite of his mind not remembering anything with those white noises, his heart seems like it could.

‘They sound like the nostalgic noise of past, the love in darkness, the love that was stuck in nowhere, too.’

He muffled and choked in his own tears as he felt a gentle touch over his shoulders. The weight of the person crawls over him, the same nostalgic yet unknown feeling occurs. He had reached for those hands, although limping and aching, he did just like holding his own life; fragile and expensive.

He traced the veins of those hands, like he's tracking the obstacles he had been through. He stayed that way, stiff but smiling, like the scarecrow in a field that had kissed the night sky.

‘He's here. I can feel him.’

He risked his peace and embraced his arms, but he felt nothing. His tears glimmer with the moonbeam reflecting on them, making his dull eyes shine with longing and sorrow.

Shoyo wondered, “he's here, but why is it cold?”

“He's here. He's in my hands!” He shouted on himself.

“But why do I feel lonely? Why does it feels like the breeze of winter and chilling wind of a sudden thunderstorm is embracing me?” He cried, not knowing what's real and what's not.

No matter what he is thinking, his grips tightened around those hands embracing him, letting his eyes rain.

“He's here and that's what matter the most. Right, Kei?” He looked up, his lips are bright and beaming, but his eyes told the opposite. “He's here. He's here. He– that's what I want to believe. Because he's. . . here. Right?”

In his blank reality, he's currently with his most remembered person, whose eyes are gold like his hair, blocked by those lenses that could foretell his future. That's what he wants to believe, the reality he would like to live when the last song of time comes.

Hinata beamed even more when the sun had settled fully and was replaced by the moon above him. After months of no visitor, he realized that he has to visit himself too. The sun visited him today and also the new moon.

The cool embrace faded like in gradient and a chilling whisper was uttered beside his ears. The supposed to be warm breath was actually cool, freezing the shell of his ears.

“Thank you, for living for me.”

His tears shows up like the stars in the sky. He never heard him say it, until today, it's the same phrase. He never heard him tell him his own feelings, his own emotions. He never heard of Tsukishima Kei telling him, “I love you.”

Does it still matter? He knew, for once, Tsukishima Kei loved him. At least, he did. He loved him.

“You've done enough.” His voice was like the wind. “Fly for me, Shoyo. Tell about me to the cosmos.”

His smile didn't fade whilst he leans on the wheelchair. He looked above him and saw a blurry, distorted figure.

“I love you.”

After years of hoping and wishing to hear a single line, his heart skipped a massive beat after finally being able to hear that. Yet his eyes squinted, letting out crystalized fragments of his soul, asking himself, “why just tonight?” 

When everything is stumbling down the hill? Why only tonight, when he doesn't need it anymore?

But maybe, it's a ticket. A sign of freedom. A sign for him to unleash his wings and fly free to roam the neverending nowhere.

Yet, for somebody who will see the happening inside his room. They'd only see a toneless man on his wheelchair, hugging himself. A man crying himself to sleep.

[7]After that day, the grown man– who celebrated with Shoyo– had been hopeful that everything will turn out fine. He works with slight smile, with half grin, his colleagues asking what happened and he seemed fulfilled and enlightened. Whenever he's asked by those questions, he would only answer with a smile. He works non-stop, Hinata in his mind, that celebration they had won't let him rest. He's motivated and kept it in his own pace, positivity eating him up; he's trusting everything at the moment, unable to visit Hinata.

His week of hectic schedule finished today, it's already half of November. He went out of their office building with the calm expression and smile still on his lips. It was like Hinata passed him some of his positive energy and luminosity.

Taking his way downtown to meet his past volleyball teammates, he stopped on his track as he saw an orange haired guy running all the way through the pedestrian lane. It's familiar, but the clothes aren't. Those bouncing fluffy hair was familiar. He brushed it off, taking the route through the usual spot of their meet up.

The chime on the doorframe of the cafe rung as he gently pushes the glass door. He expected the sound of brewing machine, or the talks of negotiating people, or the flipping of pages of books. Yet he heard nothing, other than the sound of silent sobs.

His eyes searched for the source of the noise and found a group of people on the corner, hugging each other as if their lives depend on it. The gray haired male stood up as soon as he got a full sight of the man who had came. Eyes are squinting and filled with crystal tears.

He thought that it's a tear of joy, or achievement. But it's not. He didn't expect it to be tears of fate's game and somehow, the universe had won.

“I'm sorry. We're sorry.”

“We didn't say it earlier, because we aren't expecting it, too.” The gray haired male gripped on the taller man's coat.

“Suga-san...”

“We are so sorry. We didn't want to bug your working hours–”

“Suga-san! Just tell me what happened!”

“Shoyo-kun. He, I– I don't know how can I say this—” Sugawara sobbed as he bow his head down— “He passed away this two in the morning. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ‘𝑲𝒆𝒊-𝒌𝒖𝒏’. I'm sorry.”

[8] He kneeled down on the grass that are withering and turning brown, while his hands grips on a book. Something that he never thought he'd be doing for somebody he used to know.

A book filled with blooming memories of the yesterday's sun, in full detail, from the sound of his laugh, to the way that the strands of his hair glisten during dusk and dawn– the ways he used to light up the world.

“It's sad, isn't it?” Kogane uttered beside him, squatting down and proceeds to indian sit. “Not being able to hear the one you love say that he loves you, too.”

“What do you mean?” Kei chuckled. “𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.” He earned a chuckle and a laugh behind him.

“Nah, you didn't. You two are far from each other—”

“You're clearly not aware of anybody's life, aren't you?” Tsukishima traced the tombstone with his fingers, roaming each touch of his on the engraved name. “He said ‘𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖’ to me, for numerous moments in every time we had met.”

“It was not supposed to hurt, you know? Because he's saying those for me.” He sighed and faked a laugh, words are breathy and he knew, he might break down, soon. “The problem is, he says that he knows me, but the truth was he can't remember me.”

“He knows Tsukishima Kei, but he can't remember who I am. I've been there by his side, talking with him, feeding him, had celebrated my birthday with him without knowing that I am the celebrant.”

“And that made me realize that my fear isn't anything supernatural, or unknown, it is the disaster that I could have inside if somebody I loved the most had forgotten about me.”

“He knows Tsukishima Kei, but he can't remember me. There's a fine line between knows and remembered, or past and present. He might have known who I am in the past, but he has no idea who I am in the present. It's ironic that he can't remember most of the things he had done in the past, yet with one particular person, all he can remember is what he knows about ‘him’ in yesterday.”

“He's stuck in that time. A time where he lived a beautiful youth with me. The time where we are both present in one place, and although 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 wasn't told, it's felt. But he's just there, in a far distance. His mind was stuck in the past, remembering each detail about me, forgetting my big picture, remaining there, cherishing each moment; gasping for air in the present, dying not remembering who I am today.

“You see, it's hard to reach a butterfly who wants to be free.”

“He can't remember it. . . my whole face, the smallest of the smallest things I've shared with him about me.” He shut his eyes closed, hands are gripping in the air. “He can't remember that I am his, his moon...”

“That I am today's Tsukishima Kei. That I changed, had become positive, optimistic because of him.”

“I love him not because he's happy, lively, but because he's Shoyo. No other reason, just because it's him.”

His eyes were blocked by his own sorrows. His glasses are no help, it's as if his tears were caged. They escaped through the slip between the frame and his cheeks, just the way his lament escape through his lips; it's raining under a cleat weather.

‘Shoyo...’

“And I always told myself that it'd be painful to see him with another man clinging on his waist. But if I'll be able to turn back time, I'll choose that. I'd rather see him happy in the arms of another man, than to see his flare nowhere in this world.”

His fingers grabbed on the grass, bowing, facing the memory of Shoyo that will last for seasons.

“You lived for me. I have come to know what love is because of you. We're fair now.” A mere laugh escaped his quivering lips. Kogane was watching his shoulders shudder in each muted sobs, not knowing what to do, but to listen on Kei's howling voice.

“We're the almost of the yesterday and what ifs of today. Yet tomorrow, I am hoping, I'll be saying that you're just a memory.”

“That I once loved you.”

Kei knew that when he gets out of the memorial cemetery, he had already lost it: the warmth, the heat. He had already lost his summer, the warmth of sun in his winter, his apricity. He had already lost Shoyo and his beams.

Kei lost the source of his light.

[9] “I love him, can't I just meet him? Can't I just see him?” Shoyo lazily lays his body on his bed.

“Who?”

“My firefly. Tsukishima Kei.”

His breath was snitched away. He responded, “maybe, soon.”

Silence embraced the two of them, the way that the world was hugged by mysteries.

“The world really is cruel.” Shoyo laughed through his nose– fogged, fake, white. “I kinda wish he's here. At least that way, I know he cares.” 

The man didn't utter a thing anymore. He watches Shoyo drifts into the slumber. And his voice whispers through the wind, making it sound like a wish, “Shoyo, I'm here.”

“I am Tsukishima Kei.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love reading feedbacks and constructive criticism, please leave some!  
> Don't cry.


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